with your complexion.’
The bonnet was green silk. Miss Gladman tittered, Lady Amelia showed her teeth in what might have been taken for a smile. ‘And yours is delightful, too. I always think fawn is so flattering with an older skin.’
‘Very true,’ Laura agreed warmly. She moved closer and added, low-voiced, ‘And one of the benefits of passing years, as you will inevitably discover, Lady Amelia, is the awareness of the danger of making gestures which, however satisfying they may be for a moment, actually work against one in the end. All that effort to attach a certain gentleman, thrown away in one moment of spite. Oh dear.’ She smiled. ‘Look, Mab, Lord Wykeham has just arrived in his carriage. Help me to the door, if you please.’
And not a moment too soon, she thought as she heard the sharp hiss of indrawn breath and saw Lady Amelia’s gloved fingers turn to claws on her prayer book.
The tiger was at the horses’ heads and Avery stood waiting for her with Alice perched up on the seat. There would be no room for Mab.
‘Allow me, Lady Laura.’ He put a hand either side of her waist and lifted her up to sit beside Alice, then walked to the other side, climbed up and took the reins. The tiger ran round and scrambled up behind.
‘Good morning, Lady Laura.’ Alice, bandbox-neat and clutching her prayer book, peeped up at Laura from under her bonnet brim. ‘Are you safe now?’ she whispered. ‘From the bad man?’
‘I hope so,’ Laura whispered back.
Alice slipped her hand into Laura’s and gave it a squeeze. ‘Papa will protect you,’ she said confidently. ‘Are you having a lovely time? I am.’
‘Do you get on well with the other children?’ Laura asked, conscious of Avery’s silent figure looming on the other side.
‘Oh, yes. Tommy Atterbury was horrid because I do not have a mama, but I said I would rather not, if mine dressed me up in such a silly way. His mother makes him wear a velvet suit with a floppy bow at the neck and he has ringlets, you know. Anyway, the others all laughed at him and Priscilla Herrick said I was a good sport and they’ve all been very nice.’
Laura could feel her lips twitching into a smile and bit her lips until she could answer with a straight face. ‘That was very quick-witted of you, Alice. Well done.’ Given Lady Atterbury’s own appalling dress sense poor Tommy’s outfit was no surprise at all.
She glanced sideways and found Avery looking at her. ‘I can’t be with her all the time,’ he remarked mildly.
‘Of course not. Self-defence is important. No doubt Alice has learned her quick wit from you.’
‘And the sharp edge of her tongue is doubtless inherited.’ His eyes were on the road again, fixed between the heads of the pair of handsome greys he was driving.
‘Attack is often the best form of defence,’ Laura remarked. ‘Especially for a woman. We have fewer natural weapons.’
‘I would beg leave to disagree,’ Avery remarked, looping his reins as he guided the pair down the lane to the church. ‘Men are constrained by honour from retaliating.’
‘Given their natural superiority of strength and the unfair advantages law and society give them over women there has to be a balance somewhere.’ With Alice listening Laura struggled to keep her tone light and free from the anger she felt. Honour! What a hypocrite he was.
‘Papa, may I have the money for the collection plate?’ Alice asked, cheerfully unaware of the battle raging over her head.
‘When we get down, sweetheart.’ Avery reined in and waited for the tiger to jump down before he descended and swung Alice to the ground. ‘Allow me, Lady Laura. I trust the ride did not jolt your ankle.’
‘Not at all.’ Laura took his arm and limped into the church. Eyes followed their path down the aisle towards a box pew whose door was held open by one of Lady Birtwell’s footmen. ‘Not that one. I will sit there, with Lady Atterbury,’ Laura said, recognising the towering confection that her ladyship considered suitable as a church bonnet.
‘I imagine Lady Birtwell has given instructions on who is to sit where.’ Avery continued down the aisle, her hand trapped against his side.
‘But we look like a family group,’ Laura hissed.
‘And?’ Avery let Alice go in first, then ushered Laura through. ‘That is your aim, is it not?’
‘But not yet,’ she hissed. Without creating a scene there was little she could do except sit down on the embroidered pew cushion. Laura leaned forward to place her prayer book on the shelf and said, ‘I would prefer to be asked first.’
‘You have already done the asking,’ Avery remarked. He picked up a hymn book, consulted the numbers on the board and rifled through until he found the first before placing it before Laura. ‘I am merely trying to exhibit some dignity by not screaming and thrashing about in the trap you believe you have sprung.’
To her horror her eyes began to sting. Laura dropped to her knees on the hassock and buried her face in her hands until she got the urge to cry under control.
The congregation came to their feet and Avery put a hand under her elbow to hoist her up. ‘Or do you propose to remain there, praying for forgiveness?’
Laura ignored him, sat down and remained seated through the entire service. She helped Alice with her hymn book, moved her lips as though she was singing and fought her temper and her fear.
Finally the vicar and choir processed out and the congregation gathered their possessions and began to file down the aisle towards the south door. Laura had no idea what she said to the vicar as they left, although she must have said something reasonably coherent because he smiled and shook hands and no one seemed shocked.
Avery waited for his phaeton. ‘Gregg, take Miss Alice to Miss Blackstone, please. If she has already left, then walk Miss Alice back to the house.’
With a sinking sense of helplessness Laura allowed herself to be helped into the seat and waved to Alice with the best imitation of cheerfulness she could manage. Avery got in, took the reins and sent the greys off at a brisk trot in the opposite direction to the house.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To hell in a hand basket, I imagine.’ Avery turned into a lane and drove on until it widened into a little meadow beside a stream. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the brook plashed cheerfully amongst its stones. An exquisite spot for a proposal, Laura thought, wondering if Avery’s sense of irony had led him to select it for that reason.
He pulled off onto the grass, stuck the whip in its holder and tied the reins around the handle. ‘I have to give you full marks for tactics, my sweet.’ The endearment was like a slap in the face. ‘The slipper on the floor outside my door was masterly.’ She did not trouble to deny it had been deliberate, but concentrated on aligning the markers in her prayer book as though the fate of nations depended on their straightness. ‘And as for your performance in bed, why, that was positively professional. Anyone would have thought you were actually enjoying yourself.’
The book fell to the floor of the carriage, the markers blew away in the breeze that did nothing to cool her burning cheeks. ‘I was not pretending and neither were you.
